


Home, My Heart

by granite



Series: Home Life [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Married Couple, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/granite/pseuds/granite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras has work to finish, but Grantaire has other plans. They don't get very far before they're interrupted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home, My Heart

“Time for bed, Enjolras.” Grantaire declared.  


Without looking up from his papers, the same ones he furiously graded all evening. He shook his head. “Have to finish this, sorry.”  


“Come on, Enj. Take a break, sleep for once.”  


Enjolras rolled his eyes and continued his marking. “It’s not even ten, R, you’re being overdramatic.”  


Grantaire stood behind him, in their bedroom, while Enjolras continued working at his desk. When he agreed to marry the workaholic at 23, he signed off on sharing Enjolras with his work. Then, it was the Cause. Now, at 43, he taught political science. His age failed to slow him down, and his passion burned as bright as it did twenty years ago.  


“ _I’m_ not being dramatic.” he rubbed his husband’s shoulders. “ _You are._ ” He leaned down and kissed his neck softly, stopping to bite lightly on the soft muscle and Enjolras hummed, spinning around in his chair to face Grantaire. The blonde reached up to card his fingers through soft curls, once raven black but now speckled with a gray dusting. He pulled him forward for a kiss, allowing himself to instantly deepen it. He swiped his tongue along Grantaire’s bottom lip, and the man sighed contentedly.  


“Come back to bed.” He whispered.  


Enjolras nodded and stood up, shuffling Grantaire back until the man’s knees hit the edge of the bed, and he allowed himself to fall onto it. He pushed toward the head of the bed, lying on the pillow while Enjolras crawled on top of him and attacked his neck. Grantaire ran slim fingers over golden skin, over planes of muscle that stayed hardened throughout the years. Enjolras straightened and pulled the shirt off, reaching down to pull at Grantaire’s until he removed it. He ran his nails down Grantaire’s abdomen, and a soft moan escaped the man’s lips. He worked open the button to his trousers and sat up, allowing Grantaire the room to shuffle them off before straddling him, bracketing his knees around his husband's waist. He ground his hips down and earned himself a sharp gasp from the other man before he started pleading.  


“God, Enjolras. Fuck—I want you to-”  


Enjolras never found out what Grantaire wanted, because the door slammed open, and Enjolras jumped, startled.  


“Dad? Can you sig—Oh my God. Oh, god ew I am so sorry.” The door shut again.  


Grantaire, shell-shocked, laid there; Enjolras buried his face into the man’s neck while Grantaire covered his own face with his hands and groaned.  


“This is embarrassing.” Enjolras nodded into his neck. “It could be worse.” Enjolras shook his head. “I mean, imagine if that happened fifteen minutes later. We’d be throwing ourselves into the Seine right now.” Enjolras snorted. “We should probably go talk to her.”  


Enjolras lifted his head and sighed, taking in Grantaire’s flushed complexion. More from their activities or the embarrassment, he didn’t know. “I’ll go.” He gave one last chaste kiss on the lips before rolling off, set on clothing himself.  


He slipped out the bedroom door and toed down the hallway to his daughter’s shut door. He knocked quietly and waited for an answer.  


“Hel-lo, come in.” She called out, and he opened the door gingerly and stepped inside, shutting it awkwardly behind him.  


“Hello.” He avoided looking at her, letting his eyes roam over the band posters and famous actors hanging on the wall.  


“Whatever could you be doing in my chambers so late?” She smirked, feigning innocence. Definitely her father’s daughter. The expression, surrounded by her stark black hair just screamed Grantaire.  


“May I sit down?” He motioned to the bed and she nodded, looking utterly bemused. He sat on the edge, and forced himself to face her.  


“Your father and I,” He drops his gaze, suddenly interested in the quilt bedspread. “We should like to apologize for the display.”  


“Yeah, that was pretty weird.”  


“I am sincerely sorry,” He looked at her again. “But we are married, and from time to time we-”  


“Oh god, dad, stop. I get it.”  


“My apologies.” He mumbled.  


“We can pretend it never happened, okay?” He nodded. “Good, now give me a hug.” She scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.  


When she freed him he stood up and inched toward the door.  


“Good night.”  


“Night, dad. Love you!” She smiled.  


He returned the smile with an _“I love you too”_ and closed the door behind him, heading back toward his own room. He found Grantaire sitting on the edge of the bed, still unclothed and wringing his hands together.  


He looked up when Enjolras entered and laughed.  


“What?” He asked.  


“Nothing, I’m sorry.” He giggled.  


“Tell me.”  


“It’s just your face, you’re redder than a tomato.”  


Enjolras rolled his eyes and took his clothes off, climbing into bed on his side, content to just sleep for a few days. Or maybe a week. Grantaire settled behind him on the other side, and he felt an arm wrap around his waist and the ghost of a breath against his skin.  


Grantaire kissed the back of his neck lightly. “You okay?”  


He sighed and disentangled himself from his husband’s arms in order to face him.  


“I’m afraid I didn’t do very well in confronting any potential issues.”  


“Sometimes there isn’t a solution, E. She might feel a little uncomfortable for a day or two but this happens to the best of us.”  


Enjolras nodded and shifted to curl against Grantaire, who threw an arm around his waist again and pulled him tighter.  


“We can make pancakes in the morning and share awfully embarrassing accidental voyeurism stories. You must have a few.”  


Enjolras grimaced. “Well, I lived with Courfeyrac in college.”  


Grantaire laughed at the memory.  


“Go to sleep, Enj. We can talk about it tomorrow.”  


“I still have work to do.” He half-heartedly mumbled.  


“I still have _you_ to do. Looks like neither of us are getting much done.”  


Enjolras huffed but settled further into his husband’s arms, drifting off to sleep.  


*

Grantaire stirred to the smell of coffee, patting the sheets beside him to see if Enjolras was still here. He confirmed that yes, he was still asleep, when he found an arm. Good, he thought, he needs to sleep more. He shuffled from under the covers, quietly trying not to wake his husband up and padded from the room.  


At the soft clattering sound in the kitchen he called, “Olivie?”  


She appeared around the corner, smiling. “Oh good, papa, you’re awake. What should I make?”  


He sat down at the bar and hummed. “Make French toast and a bucket of coffee and Enj might cry.”  


“Challenge accepted!” She poured him a mug and set about finding the ingredients.  


“Before your dad wakes up, I ought to ask about _the talk_ you two had.”  


“It was kind of funny to see him so uncomfortable.”  


“He was _mortified._ I promised him we’d talk about it today.”  


She groaned. “Do we have to?”  


“Yep! He _may_ or may not prepare a speech. Emphasis on the _may._ Then we have group presentations, probably for a grade, mind you.”  


She burst out laughing and had to put the bowl she held down.  


“It’s funny because it’s true.” She sniggered, when she finally calmed down.  


“I know,” he smiled. “The first time he asked me out, he memorized a speech.”  


“He did not.” She deadpanned.  


“He absolutely did.”  


Enjolras appeared in the archway, rubbing his eyes sleepily.  


“I had two speeches planned, actually.”  


Grantaire swings the barstool around and Enjolras steps between his knees, letting the raven haired man wrap his arms around him. He pulls back slightly, kissing the side of his husband’s mouth and climbing onto his own chair. Olivie pushes a mug of coffee in front of him and he takes a sip, his face transforming into an expression of pure joy.  


“You’re an angel.” He declares when he sets the cup down. “What are you making?” Grantaire’s smile brightened.  


“French toast.” She states.  


“Wow, we can definitely keep this one.”  


“Papa says we’re having ‘group presentations’ today.” She air quotes.  


Enjolras looks confused for a second before rolling his eyes and flicking Grantaire on the arm, who just grins  


“He’s just mad because he lived with Courfeyrac, which means he has dozens of walk-in stories.” He faux-whispers to Olivie.  


She snickers. “Uncle Courf always has a few things to say about the two of you, also.”  


Grantaire gasps. “Whatever that monster says, it’s a lie!”  


“Oh?” She scratches her head in a mock-thinking gesture. “Are uncle Combeferre and uncle Jehan and aunt Cosette and aunt Eponine liars, too?” She asks innocently.  


Enjolras is shaking his head and rolling his eyes from beside him.  


“Curse them, every parasitic one. Right E?”  


“Yes, curse them.” He smirks. “Especially Combeferre.”  


“’Ferre?” Olivie asks.  


“He’s supposed to be on my side.” Enjolras pouts.  


“Children, breakfast is ready!” Their daughter calls.  


She serves them each French toast and they eat, talking and joking absently about everything. Enjolras leans over and kisses the syrup off Grantaire’s lips at some point and Olivie declares them the grossest because wow ‘pda’ at the table. He knows Enjolras will go back to working and their daughter will go do whatever she has planned, but for now, it’s perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave me questions and comments, and stay tuned for another part.


End file.
